


Even in Hades Even in death

by Ullrgodofskiing



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:28:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24790849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ullrgodofskiing/pseuds/Ullrgodofskiing
Summary: As Thetis finally adds Patroclus' name to their shared grave, he is allowed to fall into the loving arms of his love.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 176





	Even in Hades Even in death

Shadows surrounded him, the blurred vision of their joined grave, dissipating like sand running through fingers. There was neither warmth nor cold, there was only one thing, his voice, words. “Patroclus. I am here. Waiting for you, most beloved.” he spoke the words over and over and over, leading his love’s steps guiding him. The path, feeling like snow upon the ground, without its cold, maybe like sand, but it had been some time since he had felt anything like that. All was dark as he walked, there was nothing apart from his voice. It was like balancing blindly upon an invisible path. The voice grew closer now and his voice changed, it swelled, breaking at the edges “I can see you. I am here. I am here.” Patroclus saw nothing yet until he had taken his last step. Warm hands, hands as familiar to him as his own wrapped around his, he opened his eyes. 

The golden colour filled him, golden hair, in beautiful locks, gentle and soft against his golden skin. He looked nothing like the way he had in his last moments, distraught by the death of the only one he loved. The words stopped in Patroclus’ throat, his eyes welled, unknowable sorrow, tears dripping thickly onto his hand as he cupped Patroclus’ cheek with his slender hands. “Achilles.” Patroclus whispered, like it was a secret that only they knew. Achilles crushed Patroclus’ body into him, Patroclus’ face buried in his shoulder, in his scent He had considered whether it would be different, to be with him in death, it was not, Achilles was himself, the way he had been before the war, before it's violence, it’s blood had washed over him like a veil. Patroclus’ started to sob uncontrollably into Achilles' skin, into his soft white tunic. “I missed you.”Achilles ran his gentle fingers through Patroclus’ dark curls “Pyrrhus, the cruel brat.” this only fired Patroclus’ despair. 

His arms went up, clutching in the back of Achilles’ tunic. Achilles pulled back a little, only enough so that he could look into Patroclus’ eyes, dark, endless. One arm still encircling his love’s waist the other on his brown cheek. Touching him, he could touch him again, it felt like a dream. Patroclus' hands knotted behind his neck, drawing their faces closer as they whispered. “You were finally set free.” Patroclus could see tears sparkling in his eyes as well, green like the bottom of the sea, like a gem, magical and whole and his. “I-” the words stuck in his throats, the pain, had been dulled, by his shadowed existence as the dead, trapped spirit of the man that died, it had returned, all of the events that kept him thereafter his death. “I was.” he said, his voice catching against all that he had endured. Achilles stroked his cheek, so gentle, so loving. Patroclus was himself again, and so was Achilles. Achilles’ face contorted in agony “I am sorry, what they did to you, I waited, I would have waited for as long as they took, to bring you to me. Nothing-” this time Achilles’ voice was stretched and thin “Nothing would ever keep you from me.” the arm that had been holding Patroclus’ waist in place came now to touch the place where Patroclus’ heart was no longer beating.

Patroclus’ knees gave out as he sank to the ground, sobs as hard as if he were beaten. Achilles sank with him of course, pulling his love close. He felt what he recognised as the rough dirt of a cave, as he opened his eyes he could see the rose-crystal cave as he remembered it. Stars painted on the rough surface of the stone, the water of the spring, the objects on the wall of which he had asked the Centaur. “My slave he called you, the brat, sunning himself in my honour.” He whispered furiously into Patroclus’ brown, crisp curls. “As though you were not the only person that I lived for. If it had not been for you- For your-” but the words drowned before he said them, he nuzzled his golden face into Patroclus’ hair kissing his temple softly. “He would have had no honour to wrap himself in and he dare defile your memory, your spirit.” Tears spilled onto Patroclus’ scalp, his own brown hands found Achilles’ cheek tearing his face away to look him in the eyes. “I was so afraid that I would never see you again.” he whispered it, his voice dripping with his sorrow, which had been placed upon him and there had been nothing Achilles had been able to do about it. Finally he leaned forward, his mouth over Patroclus’ soft lips, gentle hands. There were no words for the love that was between them, had always been. As impossible as it had felt when they were alive, to Patroclus’ that this mighty half-godly boy and then man loved him, loved him as Patroclus’ loved him back, his gentle songs he played. Patroclus discovered he could still gasp, against Achilles’ golden skin, tiny breaths, as gentle as his hands around him. The tears of either of them would not stop, they were tears that spoke of their pain, of Patroclus’ sorrow, of Achilles’ of the love between them, all their history together and finally, finally they were together, in death, their love felt like a gentle warmth tethering them together.


End file.
